


we let our battles choose us

by onemilliongoldstars



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, I just really loved the new movie, Star Wars AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onemilliongoldstars/pseuds/onemilliongoldstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It can't be yours."</p><p>"Why not?" The girl's head flicks with outrage, throwing the twisted, dark braid over her shoulder from beneath her hood, disguised in the material that sits around her shoulders and neck. </p><p>"You're not a Jedi," despite her certainty Clarke can't help but stumble away another step as the girl approaches, her weapon still held firmly upright. "And... o-only Jedis have sabres."</p><p>"Don't make assumptions."</p><p>(Star Wars AU in which Lexa is a reluctant Jedi and Clarke is a sheltered adventurer.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we let our battles choose us

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up, I know very little about the Star Wars universe but I just watched the new movie and I'm in love.

"Stop!" Clarke's hands are shaking, but her voice is mercifully steady as she barks out the command. The girl in front of her stills, her body freezing in place and Clarke extracts herself carefully out into the main hallway, her blaster still shaking slightly between her raised hands.

Nobody else is here, most of them are at the central hub meeting which will take hours and those who aren't are far away, on the other side of the station overseeing repairs or long, tiresome logging missions. Clarke herself is still in her sleep clothes, her hair still greasy and matted with the sweat thrown out by her body as it tried to battle the fever running through her. But the loud, angry crashing coming from the far end of sub section C-12 had been too loud to ignore, so she'd crept from her bed to see the girl, in strange tattered clothing, the sandy browns so far from the regulation blues of anyone to be found in this section of the station, running through the hallway with a netted bag clutched in her hands.

"Turn around," she says again, standing straighter and begging her trembling body to stay upright for just a little while longer.

The girl is still hesitating, fingers wrapping around something at her hip that Clarke can barely see and before she can say anything more the girl has spun around and torn the lightsaber from its place, the blade flashing into view and glowing green. Beneath the hood pulled over her face, eyes as green as the forest Clarke has only ever read about flash warily at her and lips pull into a tight line, brows furrowed in concentration.

Clarke stumbles a step backwards, the blaster flinching in her hands and she tries to steady her shaking hands even as she stares at the mythic weapon in the hands of her adversary.

"W-Where did you get that?"

"It's mine." The girl certainly seems to know what she's doing, swinging the sabre in her hands expertly until Clarke is forced to back another step away.

"It can't be _yours_."

"Why not?" The girl's head flicks with outrage, throwing the twisted, dark braid over her shoulder from beneath her hood, disguised in the dirt brown material that sits around her shoulders and neck.

"You're not a Jedi," despite her certainty Clarke can't help but stumble away another step as the girl approaches, her weapon still held firmly upright. "And... o-only Jedis have sabres.”

"Don't make assumptions," the girl spits, glowering at her before her eyes move to the blaster in her hands and her lips twitch up into a sneering smile, gesturing with her lightsaber to the weapon. "Throw that to one side, sky girl. We both know you aren't going to use it."

"Now who's making assumptions?" Clarke raises the blaster higher, swallowing and pursing her lips even as her heart throbs in her chest. "Step away, thief. You're going to be in big trouble when you're found. The Council don't take kindly to uninvited guests."

"Maybe they should up their security then," the girl steps back, lowering the lightsaber just slightly and hitching the netted bag over her shoulder more firmly. "That's the problem with you floating cities: your shields never work properly. Makes you easy pickings."

"We've managed for the last hundred years without a problem," Clarke counters easily, "we've lasted through two galactic wars."

"Luck." The girl scoffs, eyes flickering back to the blaster again. "You aren't going to shoot that."

The words carry an odd weight, like something pressing hard against her head, which is already fussy from the antibiotics flushing through her system, and she shakes her head nose wrinkling even as her grip on the blaster falters.

"You're going to drop it." The girl is still watching her steadily, her gaze long and intense and Clarke swallows against the thick feeling in her throat, the nausea of something strange an foreign filtering through her mind.

"S-Stop it. What are you doing?" Still, her hands are trembling, her fingers twitching against the rubber grip on the blaster and she takes a fumbling step away until her back slams into the wall.

The thief frowns a little and huffs out an impatient breath before speaking again, this time with more weight to her words. "You're going to _drop the blaster_."

Her arm falls as if made of lead and her fingers start to flinch away from the weapon as if burnt; the girl spins on her heel, obviously happy that Clarke is no longer a threat and her muddled, hazy mind registers her retreating figure with alarm. Fingers tighten and she yanks the blaster up to pull haphazardly at the trigger. The bolt misses the thief by only inches and she flinches away, stumbling across the hallway to whirl around in dismay.

"Stop!"

Clarke is deaf to her shouts and pulls another frantic shot at the woman, cringing back from the shower of sparks that rain down from the panelling she hits and as the girl approaches she lets out another blast. She only just raises her lightsaber in time to deflect the bolt and it ricochets across the hallway with a crash that sends Clarke cringing away, blaster hanging limply in her hands.

"For fuck's sake- stop!" The girl is so close so suddenly that she is disorientated, her legs weakening beneath her as she feels the fever that grips her body tighten its hold, sweat breaking out across her forehead, heaving chest struggling to suck in enough air.

The girl clearly notices her weakness and takes her chance, swinging up to grab the wrist that holds the blaster and slam it so harshly up into the wall over Clarke's head that it falls from her hand with a thump, spinning across the floor. The girl's other hand darts up, elbow bent to restrain Clarke's shoulders and the blade of her lightsaber buzzes so close to Clarke's neck that she thinks she can feel its heat.

" _Better_." The girl hisses, her breath feathering along Clarke's neck and cheek and she feels frozen, her breaths coming sharp and desperate, but she can't bring herself to tear her eyes away from the stranger, staring at her with something close to wonder even as the girl's eyes dart away, widening at the sound of voices from down the hallways.

She curses beneath her breath and shoves Clarke away towards the door, grabbing the blaster from the floor and pointing it in her direction, gesturing hurriedly.

"Get in."

The small compartment she shares with her mother seems even tinier than usual as the girl hustles her inside, shutting the door quietly behind her and turning to point her lightsaber in Clarke's direction, throwing the blaster derisively onto the closest bed and lifting her finger to her lips. They both listen, though Clarke's heart is beating so loudly her blood is thrumming through her ears, as the two guards march past, their boots thumping against the grating of the station and slowly fading away into silence once again.

Finally, when there is only quiet, Clarke slumps heavily against her own unmade bed, pulling a thin, regulation blanket up to curl around her shoulders. As her adrenaline fades her fever returns and she can feel her body beginning to chill as sweat dries against her skin, sticky and uncomfortable. The girl's eyes follow her movements sharply, but Clarke can't bring herself to care and she watches the thief through slightly unfocused eyes, eyes moving from the bright green blade still at her side to the netted bag of strange metal parts before lighting suddenly on the weeping wound in her arm.

"You're bleeding," she speaks before she thinks and the girl jolts in surprise, looking down to the cut on her bicep as if she has only just seen it.

"Oh." Is her only response and Clarke swallows, leaning backwards to sort through one of the cupboards, returning with a small first aid kit.

The girl watches her, but makes no move to back away as Clarke shifts cautiously to her side, the blanket still hanging around her shoulders like a cape, and pulls away at the gap between the edge of the woman's shirt and the bindings that wind up her arms. The wound is not particularly deep, just a slight graze of burn and bleeding from one of the blasts Clarke had shot off in her panic.

"Sorry," she says, automatically and the girl cocks an eyebrow in surprise. Clarke's cheeks flush and she focuses on her work as she continues, "I mean... I didn't actually want to _hurt you_. I was just frightened."

"I understand." The girl finally replies and Clarke dips her head in acknowledgement, her eyes darting nervously to the blade still glowing close to her leg.

"You don't need that, really," she chances a glance at the girl's eyes, unable to face them for too long, "I mean," a wry smile twitches at her lips, "we both know you could get me to do whatever you want without it- huh, Jedi?"

The woman smiles shallowly, bowing her head, "I'm not so sure." Despite her words there is a slight buzz and the blade disappears into the hilt.

"Are you joking?" Clarke casts her an incredulous glance as she cleans away the last few remnants of blood from around the wound. "You... well you're an _actual_ Jedi... you have the force."

"It didn't seem to work on you," she isn't looking at her, but Clarke can feel the uneasiness rushing beneath the girl's skin like blood through her veins and she hesitates for a moment, wondering at the safest course of actions before finally saying.

"It was working. I could feel it, I was fighting it but my mind is... hazy anyway."

"Hazy?" The girl's eyes dart to her for just a second, brows creasing and Clarke presses the folded piece of cloth against her wound gently before she begins to wrap it.

"I'm sick, I have a fever so everything feels... distant," she confesses quietly and the girl lets out a long, slow breath.

"That's why... you're mind is muddled anyway so I just confused you even further." She smiles, small and satisfied, "it makes sense."

"Yeah well, it still wasn't the greatest thing in the world... having someone mess with your mind, even if it didn't work." Clarke keeps her gaze focussed on her task, winding the gauze tight enough to compress the cut and there is silence until she finishes, snipping off the bandage with a pair of scissors and taping it down. "Done."

"Thank you," the girl admires her handiwork for a moment, "and I'm sorry for using my power on you, I know how it feels to have someone rummage around in your head."

"It's alright," grabbing the box, she makes her stand but rises too quickly and her head throbs, feet stumbling beneath her and body tumbling towards the floor before quick moving hands catch her and hold her upright, pressed against the girl.

"Easy," she warns quietly, taking the box from Clarke's hands and settling her on the bed, pulling back the covers to encourage her to lie down. "You okay?"

"Fine yeah," Clarke blinks, eyes squeezing shut tightly for a moment as she tries to halt her spinning head. "Sorry."

"Just stay still, here," the plastic cup of water from her bedside table is thrust into her hands and Clarke takes grateful sips, pushing it back in the girl's direction when she is done. "Are you going to be okay?" The girl asks, tentatively and Clarke nods, head pounding a little at the movement.

"I'm past the worst, I'm safe now. I've been in isolation for a week or so though, fevers and infections spread quickly in places like this, it's easy to have an epidemic so it's better that I stay here while I'm still sick."

"Epidemics used to wipe out people from my home planet as well," the girl's voice is soft and when Clarke cracks open an eye she sees that the girl has sunk down to sit on the floor beside her, eyes darting warily to the door every once in a while. "We didn't have much technology, no medicine to help the sick."

"Our supplies are limited," Clarke admits, quietly, "there's always that fear that one day something will come along that we can't fix. There's nowhere to run to here as well, you go so far and you hit another wall, another window looking out into the darkness."

"You've never left this station?" The girl's brows furrow again and at Clarke's shake of her head blinks in surprise, looking back to the small window in the corner of the compartment. "That's sad. The galaxy isn't just darkness."

"Do you travel a lot? From your home planet?"

"My planet is gone." The girl tells her succinctly and Clarke eyes her for a moment.

"So where are you from now? Are you a Jedi knight? Do you work for the Republic?"

The girl's expression tightens at her questions, "I'm no one." She says at last, eyes moving back the darkened sky outside the window, flickering with tiny white lights, the only view that Clarke has ever known. "I'm from nowhere."

"Then what are you doing _here_?" Her gaze moves to the girl's bag, cataloguing the strange array of items. "And with _junk_?"

"My ship was damaged," the girl is still looking out of the window, her brows creased as if they can never be smoothed out and Clarke resists the urge to reach out and touch the lines on her forehead, "I had to dock to find supplies and your back shields are reduced to their most minor setting, I took advantage. You won't miss anything that I took, don't worry."

"So you are a thief?" Clarke cocks an eyebrow, but there's a slight smile lingering on her lips and when the girl turns back to her, she thinks she sees her eyes soften.

"I like to call it redistributing."

"Yeah, to yourself."

The girl's smile grows, swells to meet her eyes and suddenly they are bright and so, _so_ green that Clarke has to tear herself away, asking hurriedly, to cover her blush.

"Why aren't you a Jedi knight? Why aren't you training? If you have the force..."

"The force isn't everything it's cracked up to be," like that the girl's defences slam back down, her face turning to iron, "I prefer not to use it if I can help it."

"But it's a gift," Clarke struggles to sit up in bed as the girl rises smoothly to her feet, "and you have the lightsaber, you must have got that _somewhere_. Are you with the Republic? The _Resistance_?"

The girl scoffs at the idea, sneering as she shoulder her bag again, "no. I have nothing to do with them. They only bring trouble. I just want to live a peaceful life and they will not let me."

"Is it true there's another war coming?" The words are almost whispered, as if she dare not speak them aloud and when the girl turns to look at her there is such a desperate sorrow in her eyes that Clarke feels her heart wrench.

"The war has already begun," she tells her, sombrely, "nobody is safe from it, the dark side are rising again. Be sure that you know which side to choose or be sensible like me."

"And what does that mean?"

"Don't choose a side," the girl slides her lightsaber into the clip on her belt.

"That's cowardice," her mind is still spinning but she glares at the girl, wrinkling her nose into a scowl. "You're hiding. I would never do that."

"Oh yeah?" the girl raises an eyebrow, "and what are you doing now? You've never even left this station."

Clarke opens her mouth to snap out a response, but a sudden trilling beeping silences them both and they still, Clarke eyes darting anxiously to the door as the noise gets louder, hesitating in front of her door. The girl pulls the hilt of her lightsaber from its place at her hip and reaches out a hand to crack open the door and Clarke slides from the bed, her bare feet hitting the floor softly, heart thudding in her chest until the girl's shoulders slump in relief and she pulls the door completely open, letting out a quiet, relieved curse.

The small droid that rolls inside, orange and white and beeping anxiously, is so surprising that Clarke stumbles a step back.

"Don't worry," the girl swings the door shut behind her. "It's just BB-8."

"BB-8?" Clarke reaches out a hesitant hand to touch the droid and it darts back, squeaking in reproach and swinging the visual mechanism balancing on top of its main body from Clarke to the girl and then back again.

"My droid." The girl doesn't seem to feel the need to explain any further, instead turning to scold the little robot. "I told you to stay in the ship, you were meant to be fixing it!" BB-8 beeps shrilly, whirring towards her a little and the girl rolls her eyes, shaking the bag in response. "Yeah I went to get the parts, I just got..." her eyes flicker to Clarke, "distracted."

"Raven would love you," Clarke breathes quietly and BB-8 twists to tilt its visual mechanism a little to the side, like a head cocked curiously to the side.

"Who?"

"Raven, just my friend," Clarke hurries to explain, "she loves mechanics. Um... I'm Clarke by the way." The introduction seems a little redundant, but she makes it anyway, watching as the girl studies her closely for a few moments.

"Lexa," she responds at last, even as BB-8 hums in protest.

Clarke smiles weakly, nodding as she watches the little droid roll around Lexa impatiently before heading towards the door.

"I should go," despite her words Lexa lingers uncertainly by the door, watching as Clarke plays with the edge of the blanket thrown around her shoulders. "My ship..."

"Yeah, of course." Clarke swallows heavily, drinking in Lexa's face in hopes of remembering her forever. "This is going to sound strange," she laughs weakly, "but I've never met anyone who wasn't born on this station. This was... interesting. Thank you."

"Thank you for not killing me," Lexa smiles wryly and beside her BB-8 beeps loudly. Clarke sees Lexa roll her eyes again and has to press down a smirk. "Well. Be safe, Clarke."

"May the force be with you." Clarke repeats the old saying, one she's only ever known written into legends and myths and Lexa wrinkles her nose for a moment, shaking her head.

"No, may we meet again."

She goes to the door to watch as the wanderer sets off down the hallway at a quiet run, the droid whirring along beside her and feels her stomach sink as she disappears around a corner.

\----

"You want to _what_?" Raven is watching her as if she's lost her mind and Clarke wonders whether she actually may have done. The visit from the stranger was over a month ago and she's starting to think she made it up, that her fever addled brain created the illusion for her because there is nothing left of the encounter to prove it actually happened.

Every time she sits in bed, however, and looks at the spot of her floor where the girl- _Lexa_ \- had knelt, she remembers the feel of her, warm and solid beneath her hands and the sound of her voice, sombre and quiet.

 _The war has already begun_.

"I want to leave. I want to commandeer a ship and just... fly away. I know we can do it Raven, you're the best mechanic I've ever met! All we need is a crew and some supplies."

"And where do you want to _go_ exactly?" Raven is leaning against her workbench, a hip cocked and arms crossed over her chest but Clarke can see the interest sparkling in her eyes.

"Anywhere." She answers instantly, "I can't spend my whole life looking at the same thing Raven, I just _can't_. And I know you can't, either."

Raven taps the end of the stylus in her hand against her lip, considering for a moment, before a smile spreads her lips upwards and she says, anticipation and excitement laced through her voice. "I think I know a few people who would make a good crew. Have you heard of the Blake siblings?"

She's already bent over a tablet, scribbling away and Clarke presses her lips together as a surge of exhilarated trepidation surges through her again.

 _May we meet again_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu with your thoughts and feelings!


End file.
